creativityfandomcom-20200216-history
To Become Perfect
The silence was unbearable. Every step I took echoed the sounds of nonexistence. The drips of the red fluids from the ceiling were the loudest silence. Chains were strung wall to wall, dangling only a few feet above the top of my head. Hunks of meat were mysteriously tied to them, silently dripping the screams. There was no end to this walk. The room was unending. The same metal-grate floor extended and extended eternally, and the same bloody chains hung above me no matter where I walked. I could hear the screeching. A mechanical kind of sound. Distortion. It was the silence of the silence. Scream after scream, cry after cry, the noise called. It was a million haunting cries, from a billion damned souls. Metal scraping on metal, flesh tearing, fluids dripping. That was the sound. That was the silence that assaulted my ears. Then, there was the end of the room. A pedestal of rusted metal jutted out from the metal floor, and a limp sack of meat rested so delicately atop it. I reached out my hand and stroked the rotting bag. It screamed. It screamed its silence so powerfully and so... silently... that I felt my right eardrum rupture, and then I heard the true sound with my remaining ear. It was sobbing. The sack was crying. No. The sack itself wasn't crying. It was what was within it. That was the source of the new silence. A tear formed in the sack, and a disturbing mass forced itself out. It was much like watching one give birth, except the crying newborn was replaced by the barely living creature that stood before me. It didn't even stand. It lie on the floor, collapsed and in a hideous heap, barely breathing. Its face could hardly be called human. It was harshly unsymmetrical. One eye, and half of its nose extruded brokenly to its left, and that one eye bulged with pus. The other half was sunken. Half of the thing's skull was shattered and damaged, and so half of its face was useless. Its mouth, which was on the crushed side, seemed to jabber away in an unknown tongue, however. I bent down to pet the poor creature, but it lashed at me with a crooked and broken hand and slashed what should have been a lethal wound into my chest. I was still alive, and the red fluids gushed out of me. I pitied the monster, and so I chose to pet it, despite its obvious aggression. Its flesh was warm and moist, and it left a sticky residue on my hand once I ceased petting it. The chains on the ceiling swung down and punctured the creature's flesh, causing it to shriek with its broken mouth. They pulled the monster up high. It dangled in the air by the chains, its limbs hanging downwards. It dawned on me that this was not the monster. I looked at my hand and, seeing the five digits upon it, realized that I was the true monster. I was a deformity, with my five fingers on each hand, my muscular and symmetrical body, the hair on my head, and every bone in my body. I was the real monster. I stood out from this place, and so I realized that I must be treated. It was precisely then that the chains shot out from the ceiling and crashed through my frail skull and jerked me up to the ceiling, where my weak body was damaged even more. Another chain erupted from the wall, and shot through my chest. It split my heart into countless bloody pieces within me. I struggled against the pain, but I calmed once my body became cold. Now I was normal. I was no longer a deformity. I had become perfect. Y̸̛ơ̧̢͡u̶̷͟͠ ̧͜҉̢̧s͝҉h̵ǫu̸̡͝͝l͜͠҉̷̡d͏̷̵ ̡̢̀͘c̛͜ǫ̨̨̀̕ǹ̛̀̕͟s̸̴̢͝i̷d̛̀͡҉e̢̛̛͡r҉̨͜ ̸͟b̀͜͠é̷̢̡͢c̵̀͢o͟͟͜m̧͘͡i̶̢͜n̴̷̸͡g̨͜҉ ̵̵҉p̶̴͘ȩ̶̡͟͝r̷̵f̴̡e̡҉c̶̨̧̀͜t́,̷҉҉ ̶͏t̴̢́o҉̸̧͜ơ҉͜͞.̛̀ Category:ManraptorHurrr's Content Category:Original Content Category:Horror Category:Stories Category:Fiction